National Liberation Day is traditionally an occasion for solemn celebration in South Korea, marking the country’s independence from its colonial overlord, Japan. Yet for many younger South Koreans, the holiday has become a day off like any other, and a chance to unwind. This year, on August 15th, scores of 20-somethings filled a pop-up bar in Seoul, the capital, for a party featuring drinks from around the world, including Japanese sake. “I know it’s Liberation Day, but we decided to do something fun together,” says Min Young-ji, a 28-year-old who was there with her 27-year-old sister, Gyoung-im. As children they raised South Korean flags with their parents during the holiday, but these days “you see fewer and fewer flagpoles”, says Gyoung-im.
Diplomatic relations between South Korea and Japan have improved markedly over the past few years. That is in large part thanks to Yoon Suk Yeol, South Korea’s president, who came to office in 2022 determined to repair ties with Japan following a period of bitter disputes over compensation for atrocities committed during the colonial era. Kishida Fumio, Japan’s departing prime minister, will visit Seoul this week for a final summit with Mr Yoon. But officials in both countries also credit generational change for helping to transform the relationship.
Today’s youth are on far better terms with their neighbours than their parents or grandparents were. While just over 20% of South Koreans over 50 years old have a positive impression of Japan, over 45% of 18- to 29-year-olds do, according to Genron NPO, a Japanese think-tank, and the East Asia Institute, a South Korean one, which conduct annual studies of public opinion. Among Japanese, over 45% of 18- to 29-year-olds see South Korea positively, compared with 35% of those over 50 (see chart).
In part, the passage of time has dulled the intensity of bitter memories. “History is very much alive for my generation, but not for the younger generation,” sighs Oh Gun-suk, whose grandfather was held at the notorious Seodaemun prison for taking part in an anti-Japanese resistance movement in 1919.
As South Korea developed, the power dynamics also shifted. Young South Koreans, who came of age in a rich country, have no sense of inferiority and more pride in their own heritage. Mutual cultural affinities have bred legions of anime fans in South Korea and K-pop fans in Japan.
First-hand experience of each other’s country is widespread, too. South Koreans made up the largest share of foreign visitors to Japan last year, and Japanese the largest group of visitors to South Korea. “Japan has a certain attractive quality to it,” Gyoung-im says. “I’m not sure I should say such things today of all days, but it’s the truth!” Similarly, on the same day in Japan, the streets of Shin-Okubo, Tokyo’s “Korea town”, were bustling. Young Japanese swooned over photographs of K-pop stars and munched on Korean street food, from crunchy corn dogs to tteok-bokki, a sticky, spicy rice cake. “I’ve never been to Korea but I want to go,” says Suzuki Dai, an 18-year-old who is trying to learn how to read hangul, the Korean alphabet.
Yet it would be a mistake to confuse fandom for fundamental shifts in the national narratives. Young Japanese may be more familiar with South Korean songs and shows but often lack knowledge of the darker chapters of their shared history. “I do see people talking about stuff on the news, but honestly I don’t pay much attention. It’s not something I’m conscious of,” Mr Suzuki acknowledges. Tucked beside shops selling Korean cosmetics in Shin-Okubo in Tokyo, the Koryo Museum of Korean history receives relatively few visitors. Young people come mostly to rent chima jeogori, traditional Korean dresses, sighs Ogihara Midori, a curator at the museum. While walking past displays about comfort women, the euphemistic moniker for Japan’s wartime sex slaves, “sometimes they go ‘Huh? what is this?’” Ms Ogihara says. “Then I explain and they go ‘Huh! I didn’t know that!’”
Relations with Japan remain a politically charged issue in South Korea. Opposition parties spurned the government’s official Liberation Day events this year, to protest at Mr Yoon’s choice of a conservative historian to head the main independence history museum. “Things can look good on the surface”, but if historical disputes remain unresolved, relations can sour again, says Hong Joo-hyun of the Independence Activists’ Families Association, a South Korean outfit which supports the descendants of activists.
K-pop diplomacy
For many in South Korea, resistance to Japanese aggression remains central to the country’s identity. Schools still take students to visit the museum at Seodaemun Prison; in Korean textbooks and in popular culture tales of the heroism of Korean nationalists and the brutality of Japanese imperialists are ubiquitous. On one of Seoul’s central avenues stands a 17-metre statue of Admiral Yi Sun-sin, who helped defeat Japanese forces in the 16th century.
Plenty of young parents still consider it a duty to teach their children about the colonial era. At a ceremony at Seoul’s Bosingak pavilion on August 15th, a choir of women and girls clad in white sang odes to independence fighters; the crowd chanted “Mansei”, a traditional independence call. Kim Min-ji went there with her two primary-school-age children. “I won’t accept an apology from Japan!” her youngest son exclaims. “Japan wants to get rid of Korea!” Ms Kim chuckles and corrects him: “That was a long time ago.” But, even so, it is still hard to forget. ■
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